Page 84 of Warrior's Captive
Under Abeyya’s gimlet eye and Banujani’s tutelage, she made progress.
But she wasn’t happy with the small daily progress. Tai’ri’s frequent long silences as he stared at her and held Mayleen drove Vivian to push herself to her limit. Instinct, the bond growing between them, or just experience told her fear drove him the way it did her. Too much fear for them would make him sloppy—Banujani told Vivian all the time to center herself, release her anxiety over being injured, and flow into the fight.
“A little fear keeps you smart, and on your toes,” Banujani lectured, “too much freezes your instincts. Silence the fear. Silence every emotion except for the fact that you must live, defeat your enemy, and protect your child.”
Vivian evaded a strike, grabbing Banujani’s wrist and using the woman’s body weight against her.
Banujani slid out of the hold, the meat of her palm flying towards Vivian’s face in what she knew would be a punishing blow.
Vivian deflected, evaded, moved back in for a strike. Her breaths came fast, her gaze locked on Banujani’s sinuous movements as they circled each other.
Center. Focus. The only must is that she defeat the enemy.
Silence.
Flow.
Vivian moved faster, feet light, muted slips of sound on the mats. Kick, spin, evade, block. Strike, jump back. Accept a hit to the ribs to create an opening to move under Banujani’s defense. The pain sparked, and she pushed it aside.
The pain was nothing to childbirth, and the building tingles on her arms, the heat. As the pain from the tattoos increased, her arms seemed to strengthen. It was as if the moves became second nature, or perhaps some of the medtech that allowed Tai’ri to imprint the marks on her had also transferred some small part of his own memories, guiding her. Her feet and hands shifted seamlessly into position the better she tapped into her center. When she faltered, that connection faltered. When she pushed aside doubt . . .
Banujani flew back several feet as Vivian’s hand connected with the woman’s chest.
“Halt!” Banujani shouted. “What in Haeemah’s name—”
Vivian halted, but the strange oneness with herself remained. She stood, still and ready, gaze trained on her mentor.
“The first step to Silence,” another voice said from behind, “often takes pupils years. You have achieved this in weeks. Interesting.”
Vivian turned. Vykhan stood in the threshold of the gym. House must have let him in.
“I have incentive,” she said, hearing her voice distantly. “I won’t be taken again.” Her voice sharpened, anger seeping through. “My daughter won’t be taken. Tai’ri won’t be—” she couldn’t say it. Killed.
She couldn’t imagine a life or her new, small family without him. How quickly he’d become so integral to her, and they hadn’t even . . . she yanked her mind away from that path, attempting to dampen her body’s automatic blush.
Looking into Vykhan’s eyes, her blush dissipated. He stared at her with hawk like intensity, bright and avid, a penetrating judgement that seemed to pierce through to her soul, rake it over the coals and then retreat . . . without finding her wanting.
He smiled. “I believe you. I believe you will survive this.” He nodded at Banujani, who’d come to stand by Vivian, then turned and left.
“That was high praise,” her mentor said. “But let’s see if you can do that shit again.”
29
Vivian curled around Mayleen,inching her arm ever so slowly away from the sleeping baby, then tucked her boob back where it belonged. After she’d crept off the bed she stood for a few moments to make sure the baby was really asleep this time.
“House, monitor Mayleen,” she murmured. A light flashed on the ceiling, House didn’t respond verbally, programmed to remain silent when Mayleen slept unless in emergency.
Vivian tip-toed out of the bedroom and down the hall. It was late and Tai’ri should be home soon. She’d taken to waiting up for him rather than falling off to sleep with Mayleen. The darkness that shrouded him lately disturbed her, and the fact that he seemed to gather it inward. To her, to Mayleen, he was the same caring, gentle father and partner as he’d always been. But in his eyes she saw a maelstrom waiting to be unleashed.
He couldn’t live like that, it wasn’t healthy.
She had a pretty good idea of one of the underlying causes.
Rather than curl onto the white couch with a tablet to wait for him, she stepped out onto the deck. A word to the house and the hard surface under her feet morphed into the same firm spring of the training gym down below. She pushed the table and chairs out of the way and then stood in the center. An evening breeze brushed her bare skin; she wore a thin-strapped tank and loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. She’d pulled her hair back into a tail to stay out of her face, baring her neck as well.
She was exhausted. Her mind was exhausted, but the internal drive todosomething spurred her. While she waited for Tai’ri she practiced, slipping into each beginner Form, making minute adjustments based on the instinct shivering into her limbs from the tattoos. Testing her realization from earlier.
Breathe.
